The King's Bride
by tiger7210
Summary: For centuries, it has been tradition among the Gerudo for the newly crowned King to capture a maiden to be his wife. When his father dies, Link sets his eyes none other than the Princess of Hyrule, who's both engaged and completely unwilling to comply. Will he convince her to be the Gerudo King's Bride, or will he realize he's bitten off more than he can chew? Zelink AU.
1. Preface

**Hey, guys.**

**So, new story. You'll be pleased to know (or maybe not) that this is just about the complete OPPOSITE of Acheronta Movebo, my current glory child. This is going to be fluff for days, because after all that doom and gloom I needed something cutesy to hold on to. Don't fret, though, there IS an actual storyline, actual plot, and my characters are never perfect as I wish they were. If you're new here, welcome to the club. I'm Alyssa, you'll learn to put up with me. I'm loveable, I promise. If you're coming from Acheronta Movebo, buckle up your seatbelts, friends, because you are about to be blown away, because "she can write things **_**besides angst**_**?"**

**…I didn't realize it either until now.**

**I hope you guys enjoy this, because I definitely do!  
**

**~Alyssa**

**PS: This is the preface. My prefaces are always short as they can possibly be. The chapters WILL be longer. I promise. **

_**ABOUT THE STORY:**_

**The King's Bride takes place in between Ocarina of Time and Twilight Princess, and in their point of view, with the exception of this preface. It's a complete and total AU, a different incarnation of Link and Zelda, but will have decent ties to OoT by way of Ganondorf, who plays a large part in the history. This fic draws inspiration from the Gerudo tribe, and about half, the later part, will take place in the desert with the girls. I'm going to be expanding largely on my idea of the Gerudo culture, as well as play into the stereotypes and misconceptions of the Hylians. (So anything you've ever heard about the Gerudo, whether it be in-game or fanfiction, throw it out now. I'm rewriting the entire story) This is going to be a ridiculously fluffy, cheesy love story. But you know me. (If you don't, stick around, you'll see). I'm not cliché. Though this one WILL have a happy ending (grumble) I promise I won't make it THAT unbearable.**

…**maybe.**

o)oo(o

"…_The Gerudo, as a whole, are considered by many as a polygamous race, as they do not marry. Instead, a single Gerudo woman can mother a dozen daughters by different men in her lifetime. This, however, pales in comparison to their king. The King of the Gerudo, the one male of the race, can easily father twice as many children before he even comes of age (which is considered fifteen, for more information see Chapter 7, "How We Differ"). After this comes the one exception of the rule. Upon coming of age, the King is expected to take a non-Gerudo wife. Little is known about the King's bride, though we do understand that she is the one to produce the King's heir, the first child between the two always being a son that continues on the dynasty, and that she is always unwillingly taken, snatched from her bed by a group of bandits and taken away to the desert, ripped from life as she knows it quite awfully to live with barbarians…"_

~An excerpt from "The People Cloaked in Sand: Unraveling the Mysteries of the Gerudo" by Dr. Baelor Winslow, Hylian Curator of the Castle Town Museum of History.

**o)oo(o  
**

It was time, he knew.

He had waited for this moment for months. Months of careful planning and consideration, mapping out the hurdles and the possible repercussions and crafting contingencies from B to Z. Failure was not an option. This was his one opportunity; if he failed, he would never get another chance.

And so he would not fail.

He sat high in the branches of a tree that shadowed the great, old manor house, as far out on his limb as one would dare from thirty feet high, watching, waiting, as one by one the lights behind the windows extinguished, until the entire house was dark.

Except for one. Third floor, second window from the left. The curtains weren't even drawn.

He had to laugh. It was just too simple.

She was there, he saw, sitting in front of her looking glass, methodically pulling a brush through her long ebon curls. Her bed had already been pulled down, her fire extinguished, her stays undone. Only a thin slip of a robe covered her now, pulled tight against the evening chill, accentuating the body normally hidden under her satins and silks. Once again, he nodded in approval at his choice.

Amble breasts, a slim waist, but strong hips. She would mother strong children.

The rest of the manor was silent as he leapt lithely down from his vantage and crept across the grass to the wall, hoisting himself up onto the stone. The place was blatantly built with beauty in mind, not defensibility—all the unnecessary statuettes and panelings that decorated the outside made for perfect footholds for any intruder that cared.

It was almost comical how quickly he scaled the wall, two minutes at the most, even including the time he spent avoiding the giant windows that opened out to the gardens—another mistake. If he had wanted, he could have launched a full scale assault on the place and forced them to their knees in minutes. There was no way they could enforce the fragile, decorative glass.

He couldn't help the smirk that spread across his face at the idea.

Foolish, naive, acquisitive Hylians. Their vanity would be their undoing. Though not today. However unfortunate, he had other plans.

Hoisting himself onto the balcony outside her bedroom, he peered inside, as far out in the open as he dared while he recounted his attack.

He would do it as quickly as possible, with as little bloodshed as possible. Not his way of doing things, for sure, but his advisors had been adamant. As foolish as they were, Hylians were proud creatures, and with his people and theirs already at the brink of war he could not afford to give them any more sparks to set them alight.

But there was no reason for there to be any trouble. There would be no guards outside her door; Percel was a minor house and careless besides. They feared for their sons, not their daughters, yet another critical mishap on their part. The girl was promised to Daphnes Nohansen, the Hylian King. It was said that he had fallen in love with her at first sight, gotten down on his knees and begged her for her hand.

How stupid of him for not sending a cavalry to protect her. What one King wanted, the better King stole.

And what better way could he slight the stupid man by putting another King to slight his sons in the girl's belly? Especially now that there wasn't a thing he could do to stop it?

Oh, how beautifully unfortunate the whole thing would be. What he wouldn't pay to be able to linger and watch.

However, as much as he wanted to, there would be no time to revel in his success. If somehow Nohansen caught wind that she was missing, that cavalry he didn't send to protect her would be sent out to take her back. King he might be, but he was only one man. No matter who he was, he was no match for an army.

Yes, he too had an army at his disposal, but to call upon his warriors to take the girl back to the desert? Never. This was the King's first mission, the threshold of boyhood to manhood, the one heist he would have to perform alone…and he had already done it once. Failing was not an option. And that, in turn, meant that gloating was not an option either.

Regretful. This specific Nohansen he had a particular dislike for—being able to see the look on his face while he dragged his precious betrothed off at knifepoint to the desert would have brought him a certain amount of pleasure.

But no matter. He won either way.

Sliding through the open door, he had held back a snort of laughter at the realization. He had _won_. She was all but his. All he had to do now was take her.

Her back was still turned as he slowly approached, still pulling the brush through her hair and drowning in her reflection until he was just behind her, a hair's breadth away. And he waited, watching his own reflection beside hers, just visible in the corner of the glass.

Until that delicious moment when she suddenly tensed, her lips falling open to form a perfectly rounded 'o'.

The hairbrush fell from her hand, to the dropping ground with a tinny clatter.

A split second later he had lunged, wrapping his arm around her neck and covering her mouth with his hand. Her eyes, as dark and brown as melted chocolate, were wide as saucers, either too shocked or too frightened to make a sound as he dragged her across the room.

And as he untied the scarf that was draped across his body from around his hips, he finally began to laugh. She was the ultimate prize; meek, beautiful, and beloved by his enemy. And now she was his.

"My Queen," he murmured in her ear, his amber eyes glinting maliciously in the candlelight.

The scarf was stuffed into her mouth before she had the chance to scream.

**Leave a word, if you will! I'm dying to hear about what you guys think, and I really need constructive criticism!  
Seeya guys next chapter!**


	2. Chapter 1

**I have to admit I was a little shocked by all the feedback. Eight reviews for a new story, right off the bat? I was thrilled. So as a present, have the first chapter a bit earlier than I planned. But don't think this'll be my regular update schedule. I repeat: this is nowhere near my regular update schedule. I just happen to have the first couple of chapters written, so from now on I'll probably release them once every week or so until I run out.**

Hope you guys enjoy!

~Alyssa__

There comes the Gerudo raid!  
Run, run, run!  
King's here for a sweet young maid!  
Run, run, run!  
He'll take her right straight from her bed!  
Run, run, run!

_Best hope not you, lest be your head!  
Run, run, run!_

_~Popular Hylian schoolgirl's rhyme, generally accompanied by a jumprope.  
_

**o)oo(o**

It was a barrage of banging on her door that woke the Princess of Hyrule, pulling her out of her dreams and thrusting her rather abruptly into the much less appealing reality of the real world. Her window was open, shutters thrown out to meet the bright, blue sky, and she could hear the merry chirping of the birds that nested in the trees nearby, the laughter and banter of the gardeners already starting their morning work. The smell of the roses and all the other flowers of the courtyard rose and wafted through the opening in her wall, and sunlight as well, illuminating her room and, of course, hitting her square in the face.

Everything was perfectly beautiful, perfectly serene, perfectly _happy_. 

And she couldn't stand it.

She covered her face with her arms, squeezing her eyes shut and willing herself back to sleep, back to her nightmares, where everything was ideally dreadful, something that she preferred _much_ more than her stupidly perfect world with its stupidly happy compatriots that expected her, in turn, to be happy with them. Such things were what her sister was made for, not her. Where she spent most of her life outside the walls of her bedroom with a fake smile on her face and forcing polite laughter out when some dignitary thought he was witty and swallowing down vomit when the suitors came to call, Isabelle truly did smile and laugh and flirt. Things would be much less complicated if it were Isabelle that was heir to the throne instead of herself. Nayru only knew how many times over she would have been married already if she were in her shoes.

This, of course, was the crux of her own problems now.

"Oh, _Zeldaaaaa_," a voice from beyond the door sang, irritatingly cheerful.

"Go away," She groaned, rolling over onto her stomach and burying her face underneath her pillow. Maybe if she hid from the world long enough, it would just leave her alone.

"Is that a command?"

Of course not.

She rolled her eyes, huffing in annoyance as she went to go answer her door. Zelda the Good, they called her out there, in the world outside her walls. Zelda the Kind. She was notorious for explicitly _not_ giving orders, not to her staff or servants, but instead making a point to ask them. When she was young, she hadn't known any better, but by the time she did her reputation had preceded her. Of course, there was only one person in the entire kingdom who had the gall to tease her about it, the one who was standing outside her door now.

Naturally, he was also the only person in the entire kingdom who both knew who she really, truly was and had the patience to put up with her. And right now, she kind of needed him. Unfortunately.

She turned the lock on her door and unceremoniously threw it open, turning quickly on her heel before he could laugh in her face.

"Well, good morning, darling," he smiled as she plopped down in front of her vanity, scowling at her reflection. "Don't you look pleasant?"

She blew a strand of her bangs that was hanging loose away from her face with a huff. "How dare you be so familiar with one of the Royal Family." She grumbled, yanking a brush harshly through the snarls of her hair.

"What was that? I couldn't hear you all the way over on the wrong side of the bed."

She turned around, offering him a flat glare.

Same perfectly groomed light brown hair, tied back in a neat ponytail that brushed the nape of his neck. Same casual stance over her desk—not that he didn't own it—as he dropped another scroll with "her" signature onto the done pile. Same laughing cinnamon colored eyes, meeting hers, as they always had.

Her secretary, advisor, and closest companion, Theo.

Though oftentimes, including now, she questioned the latter.

"Not today," she warned, and his brow creased as he took in her obviously grumpy expression.

He began to search through the piles and piles of paperwork on her desk, throwing things around until he found her schedule, running his finger down the page as he examined it. "What's got your stays in a twi—oh." He grimaced. "Ten o'clock, Ball Preparations." He looked up to her sympathetically, then back down to the page. "You couldn't have delayed it any longer, Zelda. It's next week. The invitations were just sent out this morning."

"It shouldn't be happening at all." She sighed, turning back around and resting her head in her hand. "I will find a husband when I want to find a husband, not when my father tells me I have to."

"Speaking of ourKing," He said, tossing her the dress that was hanging over her chair—lilac with white sleeves, embroidered with flowers, her favorite—and giving her an apologetic grin. "Who, might I remind you, I must agree with everything he says if I want to keep my head attached to my shoulders…"

"What about him?" She moved behind the divider in the corner, pulling off her nightgown and stepping into her clothes.

"He sent me with a message, and I quote:" He cleared his throat in a dignified fashion. "'Grow up. You will be twenty this week's past. The time for childish games is over. It is imperative that you provide this kingdom with a _male_ heir, lest Hyrule fall into political turmoil upon my passing. This is your duty. If you will not choose a husband, I will. With all the affection I possess, your Lord father Daphnes Nohansen IX, King of Hyrule.'"

"Such an empathetic, agreeable man, isn't he?" She rolled her eyes, beginning to lace up the front of her bodice, pulling a thread of ribbon through the shiny silver rivulets.

"And he also gave me a list of the suitors that have been invited to the Ball," he continued as if she hadn't spoken, though she could hear the laughter in his voice. "Want me to read them?"

"If you must." She came out from behind the divider, sweeping her hair over her shoulder and beginning the meticulous process of braiding it.

"Well…there's Sir Damon Cayn, Hyrule. Prince Ralph Ambi, Holodrum. Lord Rion Elswood, Hyrule. Baron Xaiver Ianthe, Hyrule. Sir Erik Percel, Hyr—" He cut himself off with a sputter, eyes widening as he pulled the page closer to his face, confirming what he had just read.

Zelda burst out laughing. "Erik Percel, as in your _brother_, Erik Percel?" she asked, watching as his face turned a fantastic shade of red. "Goddesses, I can picture this now; he'll ride in on his charger, take me up in his arms and beg for my hand in marriage, sweep me off my feet and we'll ride off into the sunset together. We're perfect for each other, can't you just see it?" She swooned, resting a hand on her forehead as she collapsed backwards onto her bed.

"Excellent," Theo replied smartly, though he turned around and suddenly became preoccupied with a stack of papers, his ears flaming red. "I'll draft up a marriage proposal and have it sent off to the King by sundown, Your Gra—"

"Oh, shut _up._" She grabbed a pillow from beside her and threw it at him playfully, nailing him square in the head.

"Oh, my dear Zelda." He raised an eyebrow, cupping a hand around his ear. "Was that a command I just heard?"

"Keep that up and maybe I _will_ marry your brother, oh mighty Lord Theodore Percel, the younger." She warned. She stood up, waltzing over to her dresser and pulling on her gloves, tucking the ends underneath the sleeves of her dress.

"You would have _no _idea what you'd be getting yourself into, Princess Zelda Harkinian-Nohansen VI." He smirked, adding extra emphasis on the numerals that followed her name. "But by all means, take him. Better he be in your hair than mine."

She began to laugh again as she placed her crown on top of her head, a delicate silver thing that she was expected to wear around the palace. It was simple and light and had no jewels encrusted into it like Father's did, much more convenient than the ornamental one they made her wear on special occasions. She didn't mind this one so much, not like she loathed the other one. It was…pretty, even. If it didn't wobble and go crooked so much, she might have even liked it. 

But it had been her mother's, while her grandfather was still alive and Father was still a prince. Beautiful, gentle, graceful, lovely Elianna; the entire kingdom had adored her, her father most of all. And when she paraded around with the thing on her head, it just reminded them all how _not_ her mother she was.

And that, of course, made her loathe it more than anything.

Theo had come up from behind her while she was observing herself in the mirror, gently straightening the tiara and tucking a loose strand of hair that she couldn't see back into place.

"Are you ready, Your Grace?" he asked quietly, as he always did, signaling that it was time to join the world outside her walls, where he was only her advisor and she needed to pretend to be someone she was not.

She took a deep breath.

"As I'll ever be." she replied, as she always did, turning around and walking across her room, pulling open the door.

And she stepped through the threshold with a brilliant smile on her face, taking the respectful arm that Theo offered her with a small nod as he began to pull her forward.

It was time to face the world.

**o)oo(o  
**

"You can't keep putting this off, you know."

Link, the King of the Gerudo sighed, slumping down at his desk. Tiredly, he ran a hand through his tousled blond hair, giving the irritating old woman an exasperated look.

"Trust me," he said, resting his head in his hands. "I know. You've only reminded me every day since we scattered my father's ashes to the wind."

His head turned automatically to face the wall of arches that opened up to his city, the dunes of the desert just visible over the peaks of the sun-baked rooftops. The view was the only novelty of the place now that his father was gone; both his bedroom and the study where he now sat seemed…empty, somehow. On the fifth floor of the castle, the Kingschamber was lavishly decorated, yes, but without his father's booming laugh echoing through the halls and his mother's countless tattered books lining the now-empty shelves and her tarnished old harp sitting in the corner, it was too quiet, too distanced, too_ not _the home he had grew up in, a fact he was painfully reminded of with each tick of the clock he spent there.

"I'm your advisor," she reminded him smartly, an annoying smirk painting her lips. "And you need a wife."

Of course he did. He knew he did. He'd known since he was old enough to understand what a wife was.

It was a tradition among the Gerudo for almost as long as they had existed; a practical solution to keep a race surviving. His people were a race of primarily women, only half of the equation needed to make a child, to keep from going extinct. This, obviously, was a problem, and an even bigger problem for a King trying to produce an heir to rule when he passed on, but centuries upon centuries ago, one of his ancestors had found the solution.

It was true, when the King took a Gerudo woman to be the mother of his children, sons only came one in a blue moon, sometimes not at all.

But when the King took on a Hylian maid to be his wife, joined in the eyes of the Goddesses, they were blessed all too quickly with heirs.

And so it became custom: as soon as the new King was crowned, his first task, to be done without delay, was to find a wife to produce the Successor, the next King to follow after.

Though 'find' might have been too kind of a word.

In the rest of the world, the Gerudo were seen as savages, tribal people, a menace and the enemy. Children in Hyrule grew up on horror stories of girls snatched from their beds, men torn limb from limb, sacrificed to their bloody Goddess of fire. Stay away, they warned their young girls, get home before dark, or you'll be the next one to disappear.

And in a way, they weren't wrong.

The King of the Gerudo, with only one exception in living memory, always stole his wife.

Cruel, perhaps, but necessary. What girl in their right mind would give up their life, their family, everything they had ever known, to go to the desert and spend the rest of their days with the King of the Savages, after all? It was just the way it had to be done. Unwillingly they were taken, but the unhappiness of one girl—and the son that she bore—would mean the future for tens of thousands of people, all dependant on a King to keep their race alive.

It was a sacrifice that any reasonable person would be able to make in a heartbeat, he had always been taught, taught until he believed it himself.

Though now that _he_ was faced with it, he found that ruining a girl's life, giving her his child, and living the rest of his days with her miserable at his side substantially harder than it had seemed in concept.

But it was his duty. Link knew this. Had known it for years. 

But the fact that he needed a wife also reminded him of _why_ he needed a wife, and that was because now he was King, and he was King because his father was dead.

Two months he had been gone, and Link was still in denial. How could his father, the great King Dimitri, big and strong and brave, the man who taught him everything he knew, be dead? How was it possible that he would never spar with him again, never see the pride in his amber eyes when he did good or that infectious laugh when he didn't? The notion was inconceivable.

And yet it was reality.

But somehow, the world was still spinning.

And he was still King.

"I'm very well aware, thank you, Shebari." He snapped, irate. "Please, though, enlighten me; how do you think I should go about getting myself one, waltzing into Castle Town Square and picking one at random?"

"Under normal circumstances, yes." Shebari said, smirk not wavering, much to his aggravation. "However I, being the greatest advisor to the King in all living memory, was able to procure_ this_."

She dropped a neatly folded piece of parchment on the assortment of other scrolls and scrap paper that littered his desk, crossing her arms expectantly.

"You've been the _only_ advisor to the King in living memory," he grumbled as he picked it up, running his thumb underneath the seal to break the wax and beginning to read in a stuffy accent, mocking the courtly dialect of the Hylians.

"You, Baron Xavier of the Noble House of Ianthe, are hereby cordially invited to celebrate the birth of the Crown Princess, Zelda VI of the most Noble and Ancient House of Nohansen..."

He snorted, breaking off to look up. "What do you think Baron Xavier of the Noble House of Ianthe is going to do when he realizes he doesn't get his invitation?"

Shebari's smile grew wider at the idea. "What all Hylians do when they're slighted. Sulk and scheme. Now keep reading."

"...for three nights of dinner, dancing, and festivities. Accommodations are available inside the Golden Palace for you and two guests, though space is limited. The highest of nobility will be attending from all around the wo—wait," He looked up. "Remind me why I care about some floozy princess's birthday party?"

She gave him an unimpressed look. "Because," she replied, with a tone that suggested it was the most obvious thing in the world. "The princess is getting older. She's going to be twenty. Her father is looking to marry her off. This ball is going to be crawling with eligible bachelors looking for her hand. And where there are bachelors, there are bachelorettes, ripe for the picking."

He balked. "What if I don't want to marry some vapid, pampered Hylian girl?"

The smirk was back. "Then you can go to Castle Town square and pick one at random. I'm sure the flea ridden common folk will be thrilled."

He grimaced, opened his mouth, and then closed it again, weighing whether or not she would let it drop if he pressed the issue. It had only been two months since his father died, after all...he hadn't even officially declared the period of mourning over yet. Even so, there were certain expectations he had to fulfill. And before he could fulfill them, of course, he needed a wife. He himself didn't think it had been an unreasonable amount of time, but as far as his people were concerned—Shebari included—the two months it had been since his father died were two months too long.

To most of his people, marriage was a simple concept; a man claiming a woman he didn't want anyone else breeding with. There weren't any emotional attachments involved…hardly anyone bothered with it anymore. His great-grandfather had fourteen daughters with several different women before he married, his grandfather eleven after that. Granted, he would have probably thought the same if he hadn't been raised by his parents.

His father, supposed to be the King, the epitome of all things the Gerudo represented, had one of the gentlest hearts he had ever known. He had asked his mother to marry him, and her father as well. Not because he wanted to mock them. Not because he would undoubtedly overpower them if they refused. He had asked because he loved her.

And his mother, she was the only wife in recorded history that had gone _willingly _with a King. Not because she knew it was futile, that no matter what she did she would be dragged off anyway. She agreed because she loved him.

A part of him had always wanted to follow in their footsteps, to find a woman that would love him instead of following the example of the history books, whose chapters were filled with abuse and rape and insanity and suicide attempts. His great grandfather had even killed his first wife when she couldn't give him a son, swiping some Percel girl that started the Great War. His ancestors had not been kind, that much was true, but his resolve was firm that he would not be like them.

But Shebari was right. He couldn't keep putting this off. And between managing the affairs of his kingdom and fumbling around blindly trying to fill his father's impossibly-large shoes, he just didn't have the _time _to make someone fall in love with him the proper way. And he could tell from Shebari's face that there would be no more stalling if he wanted to keep his skin attached to his back.

"Fine," he said finally, shoulders slumping in defeat. "I'll go. I'll look. But Din, if you bring this wife thing up again, I'll have you flogged."

Shebari rolled her eyes. "I'm the one that does your flogging, highness."

"Then I'll find a new flogger," he snapped, tone akin to a petulant child.

"What about a new flogger?"

He looked to the door, where a hatefully smug looking redhead was leaning casually against the frame. "Knock, knock." She grinned, rapping her knuckles twice against the open door.

"I could have sworn I locked the door to the Kingschamber." He said pointedly, rolling his eyes.

She rolled them right back. "And _I _could have sworn I told you that if you really wanted to keep me out, you would hex the door." She sauntered over to his desk, pressing a kiss to his cheek. "Lighten up, little brother. You've been locked up here for hours. I've come to rescue you." 

"Rescue me?" He snorted. "Don't you mean drag me to the Tower so you can beat me up and remind me how clearly inept I am at magic? No thanks. I just got done being wrecked by _this one_—" He gestured to Shebari, who smirked, bowing with a flourish. "—and I think I'm going to need some rest if I'm going to be any match against my future wife come next week."

"No way." Her golden eyes lit up as she jumped from her seat. "No way! You found one? What does she look like? Is she pre—"

"Not so fast, Mila." He laughed, pushing her back down on the edge of his desk. "Our friends the Nohansens are throwing a ball for their pretty little crown jewel. I figured I could crash the party."

"And by crash, you mean go quietly, in disguise, abruptly decide you don't want any of them, pull rank when the girls that come with you start to complain to shut them up and come home empty handed?"

Damn. She knew him too well.

"I'm King." He said, and the petulant child voice was back, complete with crossed arms and even the hint of a pout. "I can do what I want."

The smile fell from her face. "Of course you can," she agreed, eyes going from their normal honey to hardened amber, as serious as they ever got. "But do you remember what happens when you die without a son, little brother?"

His eyes fell from hers, falling down to his desk, any humor in the situation abruptly gone. "Our magic dies."

"Our magic dies." She repeated with a nod. "And what happens without our magic?"

"Our people die."

"And we can't let that happen." She stood up, resting a firm hand on his shoulder. "The Gerudo have been strong since the Creation, and we will _not _fall on our account. You're the King now, and you need to start acting like it! We've fought off dehydration and starvation and the creatures of the desert, the heat and the Hylians and Din knows what else. Compared to all that, this is easy, Link. Just one girl. Any girl. You don't even have to keep her." 

The way she described it made it seem so _simple_. Like it would be a piece of cake to detach himself from his emotions, to take a poor, defenseless girl from everything she knew and _rape_ her, put his child in her belly and then _give her back_?

Mila had been raised by their parents just the same as he had. They were the only two in the fortress with such a bond. If anyone could understand where he was coming from, it was her.

Someone must have put her up to this.

To accuse her of that, though, would be fighting words, something he didn't have the time or the energy to back up. He could drop that. But he could not drop the insinuation that he could do such horrific things.

"You're right." he conceded, letting out a deep breath. "Like I told Shebari. I'll go. I'll look. I'll find _somebody_. But if you think I'm just going to treat the girl like breeding stock, you've got another thing coming. She'll be _my_ wife, _my _ward, and what I do with her—or what I don't do with her—is no one's damn business but mine and hers."

She opened her mouth to say something, but he cut her off before she had the chance.

"Mila, I will _not_ sway on this. I'm duty bound to have a wife, but I will not so much as lay a _finger _on her without her permission first, do you understand me? You may be my sister, but I'm still your King, and you need to learn when to _shut up_."

She slowly opened her mouth again, a genuine smile spreading across her face. "_That _is how a King should sound." She said simply, touching his hand for a brief instant. She turned around then, and walked back into the hallway, sparing a moment to incline her head respectfully to Shebari before closing the door behind her.

Link, the King of the Gerudo, allowed himself a short second to grin to himself.

Maybe he could get used to being a King after all.

**o)oo(o**

_**Pronunciation guide:  
**_

_**Shebari- She-BAHR-ee**_

_**Ianthe- Ee-AHN-tay  
Mila- Mee-luh**_

**So what do you think of the characters? And did you figure out who that was in the preface? Points to the first one who guesses! (And it's not Link, like a lot of you originally thought ;) )**

Leave a word, if you please! 


	3. Chapter 2

**I know I said a week, but I couldn't wait that long. Thanks again for all the wonderful feedback and praise. Glad to see a lot of you are coming over from AM!**

About the preface, you all got bits and pieces of who that person was correct, but nobody got the entire thing together. I'll just have to let you ponder, because it'll be revealed later anyway. But here's one more hint: It's not Link's father. Keep guessing!

Hope you enjoy the chapter!

~Alyssa

PS: Oh, and one more thing that I forgot to mention last chapter: This story is largely inspired by 'The Princess and the Pauper' by Le Maine. Gotta love those guys!

**o)oo(o**

"…_Strange, it seems, how a people so like us in anatomy could be so absolutely different in their dynamic. Still to this day, we wonder what it was that so juristically altered the people of the West Wind, the Gerudo, all those years ago. Was it the harsh landscape of the desert, perhaps, or an imbalance of humors in the brain? Some mutation that was misfortunate enough to place itself in a common ancestor of ours? None can say for sure, but needless to say, we thank the Goddesses that it was not us."_

~An excerpt from "The Gerudo: A Study" by Archibald Gladune, philosopher. 

**o)oo(o**

Hate was a strong word.

If you asked her, Zelda might have said she hated peas, or corsets, or the calluses that formed on her fingers from hours of writing in her study. But that wasn't hate. It was petty dislike at the most, minor inconveniences that, in the grand scheme of things, barely mattered at all.

There were, when it came down to it, only five things the Princess truly hated, loathed, _despised_ with all her being. It was a simple list, in no particular order:

One, snow. Not only did it generally occur smack in the middle of her least favorite season, it was both cold _and _wet, two things she very much disliked. Not to mention, it covered up the grounds and buried her flowers and froze over the fountains. How other people saw it as beautiful was beyond her.

Two, being burnt. If you asked her, it was the worst kind of pain. She could deal with headaches and stomach pains and cuts and bruises perfectly fine, but when it came to burns, with their stinging, smoldering, flesh-ruining heat…Nayru, she shuddered at the thought.

Three, suitors. This was self-explanatory; the way they treated her like a pretty painting, to be bought and sold and scrutinized made her boil over with rage.

Four, being compared to her mother, like she needed a reminder that she was so utterly flawed if judged against the perfect woman that was Eliana.

But those paled in comparison to her fifth and final hatred, the most repugnantly abhorrent thing in the entirety of her existence—

"Princess, are you _listening_ to me?"

Counsel meetings.

Zelda jumped, blinking once in confusion.

The Counsel was a part of the limited monarchy her ancestors had established—a representative for each of the seven districts of Hyrule, to advise the monarch on issues of the people. Only, in the last hundred years, it had become a sort of a folly, the so called "issues" that the Counsel decided to bring forth to the monarch to overview becoming as ridiculous as it got.

As it happened, she was holding Counsel in the stead of her father, cooped up in the stuffy audience room with seven self-entitled backwards old politicians who had spent the last two hours arguing over some crisis with the napkin holders that would be used three days from now, at the Ball.

_Two hours. _Over _napkin holders._

No wonder her father had jumped ship.

"Of course," she replied after taking a moment to recover, smiling prettily. "I completely agree."

This, naturally, prompted a whole _new_ argument, their withered voices raising and yelling over all the others as each of them tried to make themselves heard.

Meanwhile, she still hadn't even figured out what it even was that she had agreed with.

She could think of a thousand other things she'd rather be doing. Things like watching the grass grow, or paint dry. Or shoving splinters under her toenails, among other things. Surely there was _something_ somewhere else that required her attention!

Why did they even _need_ napkin holders anyway? They were just taken off and discarded to the side, an inconvenience as they got in the way of the food. Why weren't they talking about food? _That _was something she could get interested in. She'd skipped breakfast this morning…

Nayru, she was losing it. She couldn't take this anymore.

"Gentlemen, you'll have to excuse me." She said, planting an apologetic smile on her face and pushing her chair quickly away from the table. "I'm afraid I have other, very pressing matters to attend to." She shot a desperate look towards Theo, who was dozing off by the door, begging for him to back her up. He, however, was too far gone to confirm.

Goddesses above. He would pay for this.

"_Isn't that right,_ Lord Theodore?" she asked in as loud a voice she could get away with, letting a bit of her panic seep into her sickly-sweet tone.

Theo's eyes shot open, his head snapping up as he realized his blunder, floundering with his papers. "That—that's very right, your Grace," he stammered, his ears coloring a brilliant shade of crimson.

"Oh, what horrible luck!" She sighed as she all but scrambled to his side, drawing her eyebrows together, the picture of melancholy. She turned back to the men around the table, bringing her hands to her heart. "I am just _so _glad to be fortunate enough to be able to leave this little setback in your _extremely _capable hands." She gave them her most winning smile, and watched as they melted before her eyes, shooing her away.

Well, they didn't have to tell her twice.

"Please," She begged as he closed the door behind her. "Tell me there isn't a thing left for me to do today and that I can go back to my rooms and do nothing for the rest of the evening."

Patting her arm sympathetically, he shook his head. "You still have fittings. All but two of the Noble houses have sent you dresses, and the dressmaker has a score of his own for you to try on. I'm not sure how many myself, but you were allotted…" His finger scrolled down the schedule until he found the correct mark. "Three hours, so you can assume there'll be plenty."

It was tradition, of course, for every House to send the eldest princess a gown in their colors, with the hope that she would honor them by representing their house at the next party. It was mostly considered a political nuance; if she wore a gown that pertained to a specific House, it meant one of two things: they were currently in high favor with the crown, or the princess had intention to court one of their number.

Zelda, of course, had no intention of suggesting either to anyone, and would likely end up wearing Nohansen blue and gold, but she was still required to try them all on anyway.

"Drat." She bit her lip as she started away, Theo falling a respectable three paces behind her as she went.

His soft laugh echoed off the gleaming white marble brick walls. "You know, you'd think as though Yule was canceled, by the way you sound. Most people quite enjoy being waited on and given presents."

Zelda rolled her eyes. "I am not most people."

She could just _see_ the smirk as he snorted. "That's for sure."

Though she knew he meant it as a joke, there was something biting about him agreeing with her. It wasn't as though she had _asked_ to have this life, full of smiles and flounces and dresses aplenty. Was she selfish for resenting it? Did he think her arrogant?

No, of course not. Not Theo. She was tired and hungry and cross and obviously reading too much into it.

With an effort, she turned around, forcing the tips of her lips to raise up at the edges. "My father isn't the only one who could order your head, you know."

He returned the smile. "But if you beheaded me, who else would tell you that you still have an hour and a half free to do whatever you wish?"

Her eyes widened. "You're joking."

"You wound me, your Grace. When have I ever misled you?"

"Never," She laughed, and her heart soared as she turned around, throwing her arms around his neck and hugging him tightly. "Where's Isabelle? She'll be thrilled!"

He gave her a gentle squeeze, clearing his throat to remind her of her propriety. "I believe she's spending her free time in the music room."

"Free time," Zelda scoffed, wrinkling her nose as she pulled away, starting towards the stairs that would lead to her sister. "Why is it that I never get that?"

"Because the Princess Isabelle is not the one who will be inheriting a country when her father passes." He reminded her, his voice playfully chastising as they trailed down the hallway. "And if I am not mistaken, you have free time right now."

She rolled her eyes. "A fluke," she declared, lifting up her skirts and taking the winding steps two at a time. Theo snorted in laughter behind her.

Maybe today could turn out to be a good day.

**o)oo(o**

"For the love of all three of the Goddesses, Link, I don't think I've ever seen someone _not_ able to pick a lock."

The King of the Gerudo clenched his fists in frustration, kicking the door that refused to open. He was in the Mage's Tower, or just the Tower to its occupants, the largest building in the Gerudo City. It housed every mage the Gerudo had, a training ground to practice and to test their skill. There were an uncountable amount of floors, tiered by level of skill that was required to use them. The higher one was able to climb, the more prestige they gained, until they reached the top and were proclaimed a Guildmaster by himself. There were only nine of these alive at the moment, and they oversaw the training of the incoming generations, molding them into the future of their military.

Right now, he was only on the second level and trapped in a tiny antechamber, the solid oak door in front of him his only means of escape. A few centuries ago, the apprentices would be shut in these rooms and left with nothing but their magic to pick the lock to get out. If they were unable to do so, they would be left until they could…or until they starved.

Cruel, but effective.

He was only glad that he hadn't been born a few hundred years ago.

"It would take ten seconds if you would let me use my _lockpicks_," He snapped, and his sister's peals of laughter echoing from the other side of the door only stood to irritate him even further.

If you asked him, he would have said that magic was one of his strongest pursuits. It was his will that made the rains come twice a month, that compelled the sun to subside on the hottest of days. He could force any man to their knees and make their body no longer their own, could manipulate people into doing what he wanted. And the strength of his combat spells…he hadn't had the chance to use them in an actually threatening situation, but he was confident that there wasn't a man alive that could rival the sheer power that coursed through his veins. But then, he also had a bit of an unfair advantage.

Not that it mattered, where the door was concerned.

Din, the irony. He was the new Bearer of the Triforce of Power, the Son of the West Wind, the epitome of might, and he was being deterred by a _lock_.

"When you're stealing this girl of yours next week and you run down a dead end in the castle with half of the guards chasing you, you're not going to _have_ ten seconds." She reminded him, and he growled under his breath.

Domestic magic like this was always the hardest for Power, because the piece dealt mostly with submission. His powerful offensive spells that were the core of his arsenal were made to fear, the weather obeyed his will, and his mind control forced people to do what he wanted. Everything he was best at manipulating was alive, because things that were alive were able to be controlled.

A lock, on the other hand, could hardly submit to anything.

"I'll blow the damn thing off its hinges," he muttered darkly, flexing his fingers threateningly. A blast spell would be all too simple, he could feel the power building up in the palms of his hands already—

"And when it rebounds off the wood and onto your wife, you'll have no one but yourself to blame." He could _see_ her rolling her eyes. "Think less about forcing the door to its knees and more about using your essence to flow inside the lock. Your magic _is _the lockpick. You just have to move it the right way. Brute force isn't the way to go."

"I don't have anything _but_ brute force!" He complained, and she sighed dramatically.

"This would be a good time to tell you that Kadriya asked me to tell you to meet her for dinner, and that it's…" She paused, probably looking out a window. "…probably an hour from dark at the most."

"What?!" He asked, his eyes unconsciously widening. "Mila, are you—wait, where are you going?!" Panic seeped into his tone as he heard her footsteps starting away.

"Necessity breeds ingenuity, little brother." She called, her voice muffled by the door and her distance.

He banged his fist on the door again, mindlessly shouting profanities in her direction, to no avail. She was already gone, or just ignoring him.

He suspected the latter.

Sinking down to the floor, he ran a hand through his hair with a huff.

_"Be _the lockpick," he muttered to himself sarcastically. He could probably blast down the door if he tried, but in so small a space, he would likely end up hurting himself, not to mention the group of little girls training across the room, so—

He wasn't alone!

"Hey!" He called out, jumping to his feet and resuming the banging on the door. "Girls? Could you open the door for me?"

"Mila said not to let you out," A little voice squeaked, but he had no patience.

"I'm Link," He replied tersely, cursing his sister for covering her bases. "Your King. And I have…important, King business to do, right now! But I can't do it unless I get out of here! You don't want to get in the way of my business, do you?"

The girl giggled. "Why would the _King _be stuck on level two? I thought he was the best magician in the city!"

"You and me both, sweetheart." He muttered under his breath, rolling his eyes before speaking up at regular volume. "But would the King's Sister be seen on level two with anyone else?"

A pause.

"I guess not," The voice said finally, and the door swung open with a click.

He all but bolted out of the tiny room, nearly plowing the small girl over. "Thank you," he said quickly, patting the child on the head, who was dumbstruck by the fact that it was indeed her King trapped in the beginner's level of the Mage's Tower. "You'll be a Guildmaster one day!"

And then he took off running, thanking all three of the Goddesses that the Tower had passages to the Fortress so he wouldn't have to be seen sprinting through the streets like a madman.

Oh, Din, the sun was already starting to set. She was going to _kill _him.

He was going to _die._

Eventually, panting heavily, he made it to her room, taking a second to compose himself before knocking once on her door.

"You're late," Kadriya's voice called from inside, the best greeting he was going to get. Swallowing the growing fear in his stomach, he let himself in.

Her home, much like every other Gerudo dwelling, was small, two roomed and tidy. The walls were made out of stucco and sandstone, the stone floor cool against his feet. A sheet of faded red fabric hung in the threshold that separated the living room from the sleeping room, and a low table with two abused cushions on either side dominated the space, now laden with his supper.

He raised an eyebrow in question. "What's this about?" he asked suspiciously, taking a cushion and picking up a fig off a plate. "I _love _figs. Why did you get figs?"

She grinned, crossing her arms before sitting down across from him. "What?" she asked as he lifted the fruit to his mouth, "I can't give you dinner every once and a while?"

"No," He set the fruit back down on the plate, now convinced that it was poisoned. "No, considering I was supposed to meet you almost an hour ago and you're perfectly calm, and considering you _never_ give me food, but even if you did, you would nevergo out of your way to get something that I actually like, and—Din, get that stupid smile off your face. You're scaring me."

She rolled her eyes, taking the fig that he put back and popping it in her mouth, chewing slowly, deliberately not speaking, because she knew it would irritate him.

She was good at that.

"Drop the crap, Kadriya." He said, grabbing one of his own with the assurance that they were clean before speaking. "What do you want?"

"Nothing," She said innocently, picking at one of her nails. "I just heard you were planning a trip to Hyrule, is all."

His heart fell into the pit of his stomach. Of course that was this was about. "You know I can't put this off any longer."

Kadriya had been his best friend since he was small. She was the daughter of the Captain of his Father's guard, the only one of the Fortress children that had the gall to treat him, the Successor, just like any other kid. They had been drawn immediately to each other, becoming the other's closest adversary and closest companion. Though as they became older, things started to become…different.

"I know." She agreed, her green eyes hardening darkly. "That doesn't mean I like it."

He had ended it a few months ago, when his father had taken a turn for the worse. They couldn't last, not when he would have to find a wife soon. He was the Successor, after all, a fact that she had so often made him forget, but this was inevitable.

She didn't speak to him for weeks, and probably would have kept it that way, until the day his father died. She had come back to him when he needed her; seamlessly reclaiming the spot as his best friend that she had filled all through their childhood, though it still wasn't the same. He doubted it ever would be.

"I don't like it either." He sighed. "But what about it?"

She looked up. "I want to go with you."

Warning bells of all size and color went off in his head, cautioning him to tread carefully. He opened his mouth and then closed it again, trying to figure out the best way to go about denying her. "Kadriya, I don't think—"

"Just hear me out," She cut him off, her hands balling into fists in her lap where she thought he couldn't see them. "You're going into enemy territory with the intention of taking of their own with only one person for back-up? That's insane. You'll be killed."

"I really don't—"

"And if I go," She continued as though he hadn't even spoken, "You won't have to worry about watching your back the whole time, and you can focus on finding who you're looking for."

"I just—"

"Not even mentioning the fact that if you won't take me, I'll still just tail behind you until I blow your cover anyway. I'm only asking for formalities sake." She added, a smirk pulling at the right side of her face, the one he always used to love.

He rolled his eyes, playing off the amount of anxiety that had suddenly built up in his chest. "I would never _dream_ of refusing you." He drawled, and she laughed once in triumph, tossing him another fig.

He pursed his lips tightly, exhaling through his nose.

Goddesses, Kadriya around his wife? That was the _last_ thing he wanted. He needed this to be painless as possible for all parties involved, and that could hardly the case if she was the first Gerudo besides himself his new wife encountered. The girl would be petrified before she even got to the city.

He couldn't believe he had let himself be roped into this.

Slumping slightly onto the table in defeat as he began to fill up his plate, it took all the discipline he had not to groan aloud.

This would certainly be interesting.

**o)oo(o**

_**Pronunciation guide:**_

Kadriya- Kah-dree-UH

**More boring exposition world building and character introduction. Next chapter, though, to the ball, with all the shenanigans that result from it! What will happen when Link and Zelda finally meet? Stay tuned to find out!**

And leave a word, will ya? I know you're out there, the view count is staggering for such a new story, but I want to hear your voices, too!

Until then!

~Alyssa


	4. Chapter 3

**Getting to the juicy stuff! This is my favorite chapter so far. It was too much fun to write.**

Hope you guys enjoy!

~Alyssa

**o)oo(o**

"…_He was ruthless, I tell you, baring his teeth and drooling at the sight of me, with his flaming red tangle of hair and his beady golden eyes! His skin was darker than the sky at night, and he had fangs and nails longer than my arm, filed down to a point perfect for ripping out throats! I almost fainted as he approached, with his hulking build wider than three men combined, and he was seven, no, eight feet tall! I am lucky that I escaped with my life and purity intact!"_

_~An alleged sighting of the Gerudo King, orally reported by Aliza Evansbee some three years ago._**  
**

**o)oo(o**

"I still can't believe this." Link muttered, pulling at the collar of his dress shirt, looking down at disgust at the frills that spilled from his neckline.

It was a horrific thing, all lace and shiny buckles and _layers_. Din, he had lost count of how many layers he had been shoved into. There was the shirt, with its delicate little collar all adorned with ruffles, which would have been bad enough on its own. But underneath that, there was a shift so it would stay in place and another white shirt so the shift wouldn't show. A vest made of some scratchy wool had been buttoned over top of that, and a stiff, dark green jacket with gleaming silver buckles had been fastened over top of _that_, all tucked into his tight black breeches that were constricting him in places he didn't even want to think about. Even the shoes were abominable, great big clunky things with silver buckles that matched the jacket.

He could not for the life of him figure out how Hylian men could squeeze themselves into such ridiculous costumes on a regular basis. It had taken him nearly an hour to get himself into this one, and that wasn't even counting the time he had spent pulling his hair back with a stupid piece of ribbon and charming his skin to be more akin to the people that would be attending, rather than the dark, Gerudo tan that it was normally.

Giving his escort a withering look, he sighed, scratching at his neck dramatically.

Shebari rolled her eyes. "Believe it, highness," she said, smothering a laugh as she eyed him over again. He flushed indignantly, opting to change the subject before he furthered his embarrassment.

"Remind me again, who am I?"

"The Baron Xavier Ianthe, son of Alin and Tycilla Ianthe, heir to the Southlands and Hylia City, along with the forest and all its exports. Your colors are green and brown, and your symbol is the bear. If anyone asks, your mother is ill and your father had business in Labrynna, and blow them off if they question any further than that unless they're wearing blue, purple, or crimson because that means you're above them and you don't have to answer."

Link reached up and pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers, taking a deep breath. "And the hierarchy goes Nohansen, Harkinian, Percel, Ianthe, Elswood, Cayn, then Elendes, and I am only allowed to fraternize with the Houses one above and below me. Otherwise, I should only speak when spoken to, or ignore them outright, if they are beneath me. And on the off chance that any of the Ianthes took it upon themselves to show up anyway, I should avoid anyone else in green at all costs."

Shebari clapped her hands together, applauding his efforts. "You _were_ paying attention."

He sighed, resisting the urge to run a hand through his perfectly manicured hair. "I'd rather not break myself out of the dungeons tonight."

Kadriya, who had been uncharacteristically quiet until then, smirked. "Wouldn't want to ruin that pretty outfit of yours."

He clenched his fists together, pressing them into the plush seat of the carriage. "How come I've got to play dress up with the Hylians andyou twoget to keep your regular clothes on?" he demanded. He longed for his own desert garb, with its soft silk and worn-in boots…no, not even that. He longed to be able to cut himself _out_ of these clothes, even if it meant waltzing into the castle as naked as the day he was born.

He could imagine the look on the Hylians' faces now.

"We're not the ones going to look for a wife," Shebari reminded him, and he scowled, slumping back into his seat. "The faster you pick one, the faster we can leave," She added. "Simple and easy."

"It's easy when you're not the one looking for a lifelong companion." He grumbled as the carriage jolted to a halt. "Because I'm the one who'll have to put up with her for the rest of my life."

"Just until you have a son," Kadriya pointed out, and he sighed.

"You're worse than Mila." He complained, something dawning on him in the next second. "Wait, were you the one who—"

But before he could get out anything else, Shebari had hoisted him to his feet. "Quit your whining and go." She ordered as she shoved him from the buggy, slamming the door behind her.

"You _were_!" He brainlessly yelled as the carriage hastily pulled away from the gates, drawing several concerned looks from the other gentry trying to make their entrances.

Biting his lip to keep from shouting in frustration at Shebari's scheming, he began through the gates.

She wouldn't get away with this.

He walked across the drawbridge, losing himself in the parade of people flowing through the giant double doors.

"Simple and easy." He muttered to himself, folding his hands behind his back and taking on a pompous air like every other man in the sea of suitors.

He could do this.

…Couldn't he?

**o)oo(o**

The Princess was ready to vomit.

Two hours, she had been sitting on her mother's throne at the head of the ballroom to receive the guests, her back and bottom aching from maintaining her perfect posture. For two hours, she had smiled and laughed and let her hand be kissed, carefully balancing her heavy crown on her head all the while.

And she still couldn't even see the end of the line waiting to speak to her.

How many people of note that wanted to meet her _were_ there in Hyrule?

Theo, naturally, had opted out of the evening celebrations, good-naturedly complaining that he needed at least six hours of sleep to be a functioning, sentient creature. Normally, she wouldn't have minded, but today, she was feeling particularly cross. It might have had to do with the fact that there were more suitors than she could easily count, all making grabs to touch her and trying to make her laugh.

It was a shame, how foolish they made themselves look.

She smiled at the man who was saying goodbye to her now, after a minute of mindless chatter. He was a Cayn man of unusual ambition; to even consider his station high enough to have intentions to court her made him particularly audacious.

He bowed once in farewell, going to join the much shorter line of Isabelle's, who was having the time of her life. She wasn't used to having this much attention. Zelda felt a surge of tenderness for her, smiling gently as she watched. Better they go to Isabelle than her—someone might as well enjoy the party.

The next suitor of her own walked up to the throne, and she swallowed her smile at once as not to give him any ideas, getting ready to repeat the process that she had already gone through a hundred times.

She looked up, and he grinned at her.

She had to stop the gasp that bubbled to her lips.

He was of impressive build, by her standards—perhaps six feet, maybe more, and filled out quite nicely, from what she could see hidden underneath the layers of clothing. Most of his blond hair was pulled back neatly, but a youthful shag of bangs was still left to fall over his eyes, which were an extraordinary shade of blue.

But it was his face that had caught her off guard, so much so that she hardly noticed all the rest. As much as she hated to admit something that would make the kind of girl like Isabelle giggle, there was no denying it: this man was horribly, sinfully handsome.

"Happy birthday, Your "HapGrace," he murmured, bowing low and pressing a gentle kiss to her gloved hand.

She tried to force down the wave of heat that coursed over her cheeks, to no avail. Nayru, who was this man? Why hadn't she ever seen him before?

Judging by the green of his coat and the silver bear on his lapel, he was an Ianthe.

But wasn't House Ianthe reputable for their _dark _hair?

She was sure they were.

Maybe one of theirs had married some lesser Harkinian she didn't know of. That would explain the blond, but those blue eyes? They were generally exclusive to Nohansen. Perhaps he was a ward, then, or not trueborn. Could his mother be some light-traited commongirl who had captured some Ianthe man's eye?

No, a scandal like that would be all over court. She would have heard.

Biting thoughtfully on the inside of her cheek, she nodded once, giving him leave to stand. "Forgive me," she smiled, feigning an embarrassed giggle. "In all this excitement, I can't seem to recall your name."

A hint of a frown played at the edges of his lips. "Xavier." He said plainly, his brow furrowing slightly. "Xavier Ianthe, Your Grace."

Xavier? As in, Alin Ianthe's son and the heir to their fortune, Xavier?

She had never met the man in person, but she was almost positive that she had heard countless girls swooning over his black curls.

She touched a hand to her temple, acknowledging her supposed forgetfulness.

"Of course! Xavier! How is your sister? I'm afraid I haven't had the opportunity to see her in so long!" Another brainless smile. In the world beyond her walls, small talk was her weapon of choice. The more these people thought her daft and naive, the more likely they would be to slip something without a thought. And if this Ianthe did happen to be a fraud, the more proof she could get out of him, the better.

And besides, after two hours of receiving a never ending line of simpering noblemen tripping over their feet to flatter her, this defiance was almost...refreshing.

He paused. "She is very well, thank you for asking."

"Is she here this evening?" Zelda glanced over his shoulder, to where a conspicuous Corina Ianthe, with an emerald the size of Theo's timepiece hanging from her neck and a deep purple Harkinian gown to celebrate her new marriage, was mingling with the a group of other ladies, hanging off her husband's arm.

"Unfortunately not, your Grace. Just last night, she was taken ill."

Strike one.

She concealed her smile with an effort as he continued.

"A stomach problem, the doctor says. I shall spare you the details, as they are hardly appropriate for a lady such as yourself." He grinned apologetically, and despite the fact that she was likely questioning the kidnapper of one of her nobles, she realized with a start that his smile nearly stole the breath from her chest.

Kidnapper, perhaps, but a handsome one at least.

Damn him.

"How dreadful." She agreed, letting out a breath to steady her quickening pulse. "I trust you are enjoying the festivities?"

He nodded. "Yes, very much. I nearly forgot; Happy coming-of-age."

Strike two.

"Thank you." She didn't even try to stop the grin that came to her face. A foreigner, then. Any Hylian would know that the traditional coming-of-age for nobility was two years earlier than that of the common folk. He had obviously learned about her culture to act as confident as he was…but he hadn't learned enough.

"How are you—" She began, but he raised a hand, cutting her off.

"Is there a reason why I am under the impression that you are interrogating me?"

"Interrogation?" She giggled lightly. "Hardly. I only mean to catch up. It's been so long since we've last seen each other."

"So long indeed." His lips drew into a tight line, thinking carefully before he spoke again. "You are quite perceptive, your Grace, but do not think me like the other men here."

"I'm sorry?"

"Excuse my bluntness, but if you believe for a second that I cannot see through this little act of yours, then you are most grievously mistaken."

"Act?" She asked, trying her hardest to sound clueless, but coming out more desperate than she would have liked. "I haven't the faintest clue what you mean."

"Of course not." He nodded once, looking her from top to bottom. "I just wish you wouldn't insult me by lying, and terribly, at that."

Heat rose in her cheeks.

"Excuse m—" she began to retort, but he lifted a hand to touch her just to the left of her lip, the shock of his callused fingers against her skin enough to silence her. The gall this man had, to touch her without her leave, and in public, at that!

"You get a little crease right here when you lie. You're biting the inside of your mouth." He explained, eyes alight with laughter. Her mouth fell open at the staggering difference in his tone when he dropped the formal dialect that the rest of her nobles spoke with. The corner of his lip pulled up to form a lopsided grin at her dumbstruck expression. "I would advise you to work on that."

There were a thousand things she wanted to tell him then, about where exactly he could take that advise of his, about how by the end of the night he would certainly be her captive and rotting away in the dungeons until Xavier Ianthe was confirmed to be safe, about how fit he looked in that formalwear of his, except maybe not the last one.

But before she could fully articulate any coherent thought, he turned around and left, his last words hovering in the space between them.

**o)oo(o**

All his life, Link had been taught that Hylians were ridiculously vain, naïve creatures. They had everything they could possibly want handed to them on silver platters, and when they weren't, they threw tantrums in the form of wars and assassinations until they did. They were akin to spoiled children: pampered and stupid.

And you know, he was starting to think that they were all right.

They were like sheep, every single one of them—brainless, puffed-up sheep who herded together at parties like these to baa at each other, and he couldn't _believe _that this was the race that had driven his people to the brink of extinction. He was barely able to stomach it, in fact, and was about to cut his losses and pack back up for the desert.

But then he had met her.

That Princess, whatever her name was…a Nohansen, he knew from the blue of her dress, though her first name evaded him at the moment…she was just the opposite.

A little self-entitled, perhaps, but she was clearly brighter than every other airhead girl in the room. Not a single one of them had even so much as questioned his identity, and half of them had probably even seen the poor man once or twice before.

Not only was she smart, but she was beautiful as well as poised. Something about the way she held herself reminded him of his mother; confident, yet gentle.

And the magic exuding from her! He hadn't felt an aura that strong in a Hylian in his life. She almost rivaled Mila, and that was saying something. Was she even aware that she had it? How could she, with no one to ever make her aware of it, to train her to be strong? What a colossal waste.

This girl had potential, more potential than any other he had met. She obviously knew something was off with him. Maybe she had even figured it out already, but just didn't have the courage to call him out on it. He couldn't fault her for that, though. She had been surrounded by this flock of Hylians for so long, she hadn't been taught anything different. Or maybe she was just trying to blend in, because she was much more clever, much more spirited than she let on.

She had the makings of a perfect Bride, and she was being forced to hide it because of the company she kept.

He would be doing this girl a favor. The desert would do her wonders.

He could show her that it was okay to speak your thoughts, that being intelligent should be valued and bravery should be encouraged. And all that powerful magic she had, just waiting to be tapped into…he could only imagine the Successor they'd produce, the other kinds of good she'd do for his people that was being wasted on her own.

Yes, she was a Nohansen, an important one at that…but there was another heir, wasn't there? And it didn't seem to matter to the Hylians that she wasn't a man, so why should it matter if he took her and the other one took the throne instead? Din only knew the younger one seemed to be enjoying the attention more.

He started towards the doors to the ballroom, dancing around the many people all about and trying not to make eye contact as to not initiate a conversation.

Stealing into a deserted alcove completely cloaked in darkness, he reached into his pocket and fished out a cool, blue stone by the cord wrapped around it, pulling it to his lips.

"Hope you two didn't get very comfortable," he whispered, and felt as the surface suddenly became hot, a white light shining once before disappearing.

"I'll _kill you_," the voice of Shebari hissed from the stone after a moment, pulsing light in time with her words. "You've been there _two hours_. There's no way we're going home yet."

"Always jumping to the worst conclusion," He clucked his tongue, thoroughly enjoying toying with her. "What if I told you that I've decided?"

For a minute, the stone said nothing. And then, "You had better not be kidding me, or there will be no skin left on your body by the morning."

He smiled, letting out a breath before saying the words that would seal both his fate, and the Nohansen girl's.

But this would be for the best.

"She's the one."

**Leave a word, if you will!**

**Seeya guys next chapter!**

**~Alyssa**


	5. Chapter 4

**Hey guys! Happy Holidays!  
**

**Sorry for the wait, I marathoned A Link Between Worlds as soon as I opened it up and didn't stop until I beat it. It's such a good game. **

**But anyway, I've been absolutely blown away by the positive feedback you guys have been giving me. In only four chapters, this is already on track to completely blow every other one of my stories out of the water in terms of favorites, follows, and reviews. It's kind of amazing. Thank you to each and every one of you. I'm glad you're having just as much fun as I am! The chapters, in my opinion, just keep getting better and better from here, so stick around!**

**Hope you enjoy the chapter!**

**~Alyssa**

**o)oo(o**

"…_The most unique aspect of the Gerudo, besides, of course, their barbaric nature, had to be their ability to utilize magic. It was this magic that gave them what they required to survive in the harsh wastelands of their home, as their technologies and innovations were otherwise quite primitive. Despite this, the Gerudo continued to be unworthy adversaries up until their eventual extinction by the hand of the Hero of Time, Link of the Kokiri (see pg 413), who thence retired to a quiet life in the country, wed to some rancher's daughter of small importance besides her affiliation to the greatest man of the century…"_

_~An excerpt from the New Hylian Encyclopedia, titled under page 332, "The Gerudo"_

**o)oo(o**

It was another hour before she saw the strange man again.

She had been sitting alone at the high table, sipping on a glass of wine, when he approached her for the second time, extending a hand.

"Care to dance?" He asked, and she slammed her chalice down, standing up.

"Who are you?" She demanded.

He chuckled, not looking the least bit unnerved by her rude response. "My, what a temper."

She had to bite her lip against the stream of profanities that were just on the tip of her tongue. "Forgive me, but considering you have a history of departing unexpectedly, I've resorted to cutting to the chase."

He grinned just like he had before, but this time, it did nothing but annoy her further. "How very unladylike of you."

Another comment like that, and she would show him just how unladylike she could get. "I won't ask again." She growled. "_Who are you_?"

The smile didn't leave his face. "I'll give you one hint."

He took her hand, holding up between their chests. She opened her mouth to object, but before she could form the words, she watched in horror as the skin of his hand went from a shade just darker than hers to an ochre brown and back again.

He had left her speechless yet again, but this time, it had nothing to do with his handsome face.

"I thought you would have figured it out by now," he chided, "You're smart, aren't you?"

"_Gerudo_." She hissed in accusation, shock still working its way through her mind, clouded by disbelief.

"Yes," he agreed. "Didn't we just establish that?"

"What do you want?"

He sighed. "I'm a Gerudo man, Princess. Don't you have stories warning you about us?"

"Why have you come to the castle, then?" She demanded. "To ask permission to take one of my ladies? You won't get it. I'll have my guards run you back to the hole where you belong."

"Your Grace, do I _look_ Gerudo, to you?"

She bit her lip then, because no, he didn't. And she could hardly fabricate a reason to imprison a Hylian man.

He grinned. Obviously, he had thought this through. "There's no need to worry, Your Grace. I've already made my choice. I'll take her and be gone before you even know it."

"Might I ask who the lucky lady is?" Her voice was strained, but she could only hope that he couldn't hear the fear.

He leaned forward like he had some sort of delicious secret, blue eyes glinting darkly. "You."

Oh.

Oh, Goddesses.

"So forward," She tried to swallow, but her mouth had suddenly become so dry that she had effort speaking. "I don't even know your name."

"Link." He offered up helpfully.

She felt her heart beating wildly in her chest, but she would treat him like she would any other wild animal: straightforwardly and without fear. "Well, Link, if you think I'm going to just lie down at your feet and let you, you are sorely mistaken."

She bit her lip, wishing she had something to grab to disguise the shakiness that had suddenly overcome her knees.

No fear.

"Fantastic," He smiled, then, such a wicked, intent smile that it sent a shiver down her spine. "I enjoy a challenge."

She opened her mouth to say something, though she wasn't sure what exactly it was, but nothing came out besides a small squeak.

_No fear, Zelda_, a part of her thought sarcastically._ Just great._

He took her hand in both of his again, and she wanted to pull it away more than she had ever wanted to do anything, an act of defiance to show him that she wasn't his toy, but she was paralyzed to the spot.

"Until then, Princess," He said, running a thumb along the satin of her thumb.

And turned his back on her again.  
**  
**She took a second to try and compose herself, but quickly realized that wasn't going to happen and gave up quickly in favor of getting the panic attack over with.

Because Goddesses, he was a Gerudo.

He was the _King_ of the _Gerudo_, and she had just become the woman that he was looking to capture and drag off to the desert to spend the rest of her days as his wife.

No.

No. No. No. No. No. No. No.

Zelda bit her lip, trying and failing to take a breath to subdue the rising hysteria in her chest. The Gerudo didn't even _exist_ anymore; they had been completely wiped out after the Hero of Time killed Ganondorf the Usurper before he could have a son. So this man, he _couldn't_ be a Gerudo come to take her away, because the Gerudo were all dead. He was a fraud, trying to scare her. Of course he was.

But then, magic was supposed to have died out centuries ago, too, and he clearly had that. How else could he have changed his skin like he did? How else could he pass as a civilized Hylian among Hyrule's most scrutinizing judges?

Okay, so the man was the King of the Gerudo. Fine. She could wrap her head around that, once she stopped questioning everything she had ever been taught.

But out of all the hundreds of thousands of women in Hyrule, what in Nayru's name had compelled him to choose her? Was he _stupid_? Didn't he realize the repercussions of taking the _Crown Princess_ of Hyrule? Did they not teach their Kings about the dozens of wars that they had lost?

The more she thought about it, less it made sense.

At the end of the day though, she had just wasted five minutes trying to rationalize it and somewhere out there, there was a man who was obviously doing his damndest to drag her away from everything she had ever known.

She began to hyperventilate as she stumbled, very unladylike, over to the wall, trying to get to an exit without attracting too much attention, only to stop in her tracks and trip over her own feet as her mind worked faster than her body.

Goddesses, was she about to walk all the way up to her bedroom _completely unaccompanied _while there was a madman after her? She was losing it.

"Isabelle!" She called, breathless, forgetting any sense of propriety as she all but scampered to her younger sister, who was sitting at a thankfully unoccupied table and speaking to a man behind her.

Isabelle said something to the man she was speaking to, sharing a laugh before she turning to her sister, green eyes widening as she took her in. "Goddesses, Zelda!" She gasped, turning and waving to her gentlemen caller before taking her by the hands and dragging her away to the corner. "You're pale as a sheet! What happened?"

"Nothing," Zelda said immediately, a reflex, biting the inside of her cheek and abruptly stopping as she realized she was doing it.

He was right, damn it all.

She took a deep breath, the comforting warmth of her sister enough to calm her down enough to come up with a logical lie. "I just…I am feeling a bit ill. Would you mind coming with me to Theo's room? I don't trust myself to make it there on my own."

This was, of course, because she needed somebody strong, somebody she could trust, to make it through the night. She could trust Isabelle with her life, but at fourteen, and tiny at that, the girl had less of a prayer than she did to fend off a hulking, six foot Gerudo attacker. Theo wasn't exactly a warrior, but there wasn't any other man in the castle she would trust to stay with her while she was sleeping.

The only thing was, to get to Theo's bedroom, they would have to pass the hallway where all the guests were staying.

'Xavier Ianthe' included.

"Of course!" Isabelle said, an effortless, reassuring smile coming over her face, which quickly fell. "Oh, I hope you feel better for the jousting tomorrow! It'll be so_ boring _all up in the box with just Father."

"I'll be fine by tomorrow," Zelda assured her. "All this excitement has tired me out. I just need my rest."

Isabelle nodded. "Then we'll get you to Theo's," she said, lacing her arm through Zelda's and dragging her towards the doors at as quickly a speed as they could manage, bless her.

The walk to the bedroom was thankfully uneventful, and she thanked Isabelle when she finally dropped her safely in front of Theo's door, shooing her back to the party to have fun.

It was when she was alone that she began to feel nervous.

She knocked twice, gnawing on her lip anxiously as she waited for him to answer, every small noise—and being in the castle, there were quite a few—scaring the living daylights out of her.

When he finally opened the door, he was disheveled, mussed hair brushing his shoulders and unfocused eyes still glazed over with sleep. If it had been any other night, she would have laughed at how juristically different the Theo she had seen just six hours ago contrasted with this one.

"The castle had better be on fire," he yawned, looking up at her face, "Or I will have to—Farore, Zelda, are you alright?"

She exhaled, looking over her shoulder once. "Can I come in?"

His brow furrowed. "Of course," he said at once, opening the door wider to let her in.

She did laugh—it was a tense, choked laugh, but a laugh nonetheless—at how perfect his bedroom was. Pristinely neat, ordered, and organized down to a T…he had even made his bed before letting her in.

Her heart swelled. Thank Nayru for the small, familiar things during a crisis.

"Now," He said as he closed the door, rubbing his eyes with a hand. "What _is_ the matter?"

"I just need a voice of reason." She sat down on a chair in the corner, resting her head in her hands.

"I can be that." He said cautiously, sitting on the edge of his bed.

She looked up, pleading for him to understand. "I…I think the King of the Gerudo just declared his intentions for capturing me."

He laughed. Goddesses, he had the nerve to start laughing. Her face must have fallen drastically, because as soon as he looked back to her, he stopped immediately, concern filling his features.

"Zelda, are you feeling okay?" He asked, standing up to press the back of his hand against her forehead.

"I'm telling you, it just happened!" she insisted, swatting his hand away. "He did _magic_, Theo, and his skin was just like all the stories and I _know _I sound crazy right now but I am scared out of my wits and it would just make me feel so much better if you came upstairs with me and slept in my chamber."

She winced as soon as she realized the last words that came out her mouth, watching as his ears tinged red.

"I—Sure." He said after a moment, brown eyes widening slightly. "No problem, but aren't you even the slightest bit worried about _talk_, especially with all the guests in the castle?"

She rolled her eyes. "Theodore Percel, I have never been less concerned with talk in my _life_ than right now. Let them talk all they want, we both know whatever they say wouldn't be true and I'd rather deal with the gossip than my new kingdom in the Goddess-damned _desert_."

"Yes," He agreed, sighing quietly. "Yes, of course you're right. It's not true."

She nodded once, confirming his statement. "Now, are you ready?"

They made their way up to her chamber, and she got Theo situated on the cushy loveseat in her sitting room, the room that separated her bedroom from the rest of the castle.

"Thank you so much for this, Theo." She said as she made her way to her bedroom.

She could hear the smile in his voice. "I get paid by the hour."

With a small laugh, she closed the door behind her, bolting the lock before going into her closet to undress.

Her nightgown was where it was supposed to, slung over the chair in the center of the room, but the maids that had put it there had forgotten to close the door built into the wall that they used to deliver her clothes. It must have been one of the new ones this time—Charlotte, maybe, or Gwenevere. Smiling, she closed the door, watching as the seam disappeared, perfectly camouflaged by the wallpaper.

She reached behind her back to undo the stays of her dress and quickly changed into her nightgown, kicking off her shoes on the way out and closing the door behind her. She took off her tiara and placed it on her nightstand, running a hand through her hair to get rid of the tight braid it was styled in.

With a quick once over of her bedroom to ensure that there weren't any unwanted visitors, she climbed into bed, pulling the covers up and rolling to her side.

And somehow, she drifted off to sleep.

**o)oo(o**

"Rise and shine, Princess."

Her entire body suddenly turned to ice. She knew that voice, dammit. There wasn't any other voice in the world that could fit in that much sarcasm in four words.

Instead of opening her eyes, she pretended like she hadn't heard him at all. Just like a wild animal, maybe if she played dead, he would go away.

"I know you're awake."

Of course not.

Grudgingly, she sat up, waiting for her eyes to adjust so she could pinpoint him in the darkness.

"Right here."

Goddesses, he was just at the foot of her bed!

"How did you get in here!?" she demanded, pulling the sheets to her chest. Her eyes went to the door and back. Still locked.

He laughed at her discomfort, shrugging lightly, a condescending action if she had ever seen one. "Through the balcony." He said, as if this was the simplest concept in the world. "You probably should have locked that, but then, I could have gotten through that, too." He paused, for a moment, tilting his head to the side as if considering this. "But I'm glad you didn't. Lockpicking takes a certain amount of energy, and I've never been good at the spell."

He opened his mouth to say something more, but she had had enough.

"Get _OUT_." She shrieked, grabbing a pillow from her bed and hurling it at him with all her strength, which he caught easily, much to her frustration, an amused smile on his face. "TH—"

But before his name could fully come past her lips, it stopped. She tried again, only to gag on it as though it was a tangible object, stubborn and refusing to come out. Fleetingly, she prayed that Theo hadn't fallen asleep; that he had heard her cry and would come running. Her eyes went longingly to the door.

"But I _do_ happen to be excellent at soundproofing spells," he continued, following her gaze, the white of his smile cutting through the darkness. "And silencing ones."

Not fully realizing what this implied, she opened her mouth to retort—or perhaps try to scream again for help, she wasn't entirely sure—but the sound choked in her throat, coming out in an all but silent croak.

"See?" He walked around the frame of her bed, sitting casually on the corner and folding his hands in his lap. "My sister would be proud."

Giving up on trying to speak, she settled on crossing her arms, glaring at him with all the loathing she could muster.

"You're very endearing when you're angry." He chuckled at her affronted expression. "You'd think I'd be some demon straight from Hell, the way you act when I'm around. I'm not _that_ awful, I assure you…I'll even let you get dressed, if you don't want to get married in your nightgown."

A stab of fear rushed through her as he patted her leg underneath the blankets, an attempt to placate her.

Was this it? Would tonight be the night that she would be dragged off to the desert to live out the rest of her miserable life breeding sons for this appalling man? Would today be the last time she ever saw Theo, her father, her sister?

No.

She wouldn't let it. If he took her, it would be kicking and screaming.

She looked to the door, hopelessly across the room, and back to his expectant face. He laughed again. "I'll only catch you," he warned, reading her intention. "Something tells me you aren't able to run very fast."

No, as a matter of fact, she couldn't, damn him. And something told _her_ there wasn't going to be anything she could do to take him by surprise enough to get away. She could cross diversion off the list, as well…it was well past midnight, no one in their right minds would bother her at this hour.

She bit her lip, eyes darting around the room for another escape.

The smile fell from his face as her gaze fell on the double doors that lead to her balcony. He rolled his eyes. "This can be easy, Princess, or this can be hard. You're not going to jump off your balcony and break your neck to try and run off. There's no way out, I promise you that. Now, are you going to get changed and come with me like a reasonable person, or am I going to have to drag you away?"

And that was when it hit her.

She slumped her shoulders and averted her eyes, miming defeat as she climbed out of bed, trudging over to her closet.

He caught her by the arm, stopping her in her tracks, his grip tight and hard as steel.

"And where do you think you're going?"

She looked up at him with pitiful eyes, gesturing to the slip of her nightgown and then to the doors that lead to her clothes.

He let go of her, and crossed his arms. "You can't get dressed in here?"

She shook her head violently, gesturing to the door again.

"In less than four hours, we're going to be _married_." He rolled his eyes. Briefly, she wondered if he could go five minutes without the condescending action. "You do realize what that means, don't you?"

Slowly, she nodded, swallowing at the reminder. _Consummation_. It was an ugly word, as was the thing it entailed.

"And you're worried about getting changed in front of me?"

Another vehement nod as she wrapped her arms around her chest, dropping his gaze and willing herself to blush.

He sighed then, muttering something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like "_Hylians_." before opening the door to her closet and peering inside.

"Two minutes," He told her, shooting her a warning glare. "And don't try anything funny, or I'll have to knock you out. And trust me when I say that that won't be fun for either of us."

The door closed behind her.

She scrambled to the wall opposite the door, tripping over the shoes that she had left earlier and grabbing the closest dress hanging up on the wall to stop her from falling. She picked herself up, praising all three of the Goddesses that she hadn't made any noise, running her hand along the wall, desperate to find purchase.

"Please, please, please," she whispered under her breath, until her fingers caught the small indentation of the concealed handle. Silently, she thanked every one of her snobby ancestors who had petitioned to build a way for their maids to deliver their clothes without trudging through the bedroom, and the maids who had forgotten to close it earlier.

She would have never remembered it without them—they all just saved her life.

Heaving out a sigh of relief, she threw it open and pulled it shut behind her.

And then she took off running.

**Little mentions of the Hero of Time! He'll play a bigger role later. **

**This was all in Zelda's point of view, which means to be fair, the next one will be all in Link's. But wowza, the first encounter. I rewrote that first scene at least three times before I got it to something acceptable. What do you guys think? I'm dying to know.**

**Seeya next chapter!**

**~Alyssa**


	6. Chapter 5

**When I started writing this chapter, the author's note said "Wow, I can't believe I'm actually regularly updating for once" so I suppose I must have jinxed it. I'm a special kind of terrible.**

**Thanks for all the awesome reviews, and I hope you guys have a great (late) New Year!**

**~Alyssa**

**PS: Please don't judge my terrible song lyrics**  
**I HAD FUN OKAY.**

**o)oo(o  
**

"_Pick up your feet, ye Hylian lass  
Run fast as you're able to go  
The Gerudo King is comin' a-pickin'  
You won't be next, I know, I know  
Put up a fight, ye Hylian lass  
Don't let him take you without  
Your spirit is enough to ward him away  
You won't be next, no doubt, no doubt  
_  
_And if by misfortune he see ye _**  
**_It might sound a mighty large feat  
But run while you can  
It's much better than  
The terrible fate you will meet."_

~Chorus and stanza of a popular Hylian pub song, "Pick Up Your Feet"

**o)oo(o**

Two minutes.

How could she have escaped a room with one door that he had been guarding in _two minutes?_

Two minutes, for Dinssake! One hundred and twenty seconds. He had _counted_.

Ripping another bunch of dresses off the hanging rack with the sorry hope that she would pop out from behind one of them and yell "Surprise!" and they would go on their merry way, he growled in frustration, looking about the room again. There were no windows, no holes or trapdoors in the floor, and it wasn't as if she would have been able to sneak past him.

But then, _how could she have escaped_?

He sighed, leaning up against the back wall of the room and sliding to the ground. This, he had decided, was every ancestor he had condemning him for his courtesy. What kidnapper in their right mind would leave the person that they were kidnapping alone after they had just told them they were kidnapping them, after all? Hadn't he learned _anything_?

He could just _hear _his father laughing in his booming baritone, his method of choice for dealing with frustration besides losing his temper. "Well, son," He'd say, patting him on the shoulder. "You messed up, and we can't change that. Now, how are you going to fix it?"

How, indeed.

He ran a hand through his hair, closing his eyes with a huff.

Stupid, stupid, _stupid_.

He leaned his head back, banging it against the wall with every thought of the word, emphasizing his awful judgment.

_Thoughtless, irresponsible, stu—_

His eyes flew wide open, listening as the sound of his thumps echoed back ever so slightly.

Hollow.

Din's _blood_.

He swore under his breath, hastily standing up and turning around, rapping his fist against the wall. Yes, it was definitely hollow. A door? He took a step back, scrutinizing the area.

It looked like a normal wall. But then, it was still dark.

He lifted his hand up, summoning a flame to his fingertip. The light danced merrily across the room, illuminating piles of clothes he had destroyed, her shoes kicked forgotten, and most importantly, a door-shaped crease in the wall, almost perfectly concealed by the paint around it.

Using his other hand, he reached along the crease until his fingers fell into a divot in the wall, the handle that swung the door panel open, revealing the mouth of a torch-lit passage, stretching so far that the end was nothing but a circle of darkness.

He pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger to stave off the migraine that was surely coming on, sighing heavily.

This girl was more than he had bargained for.

**o)oo(o**

"Forgive me for saying so, your Grace, but you seem a bit out of sorts. Are you feeling well?"

The princess blinked. "Perfectly," She smiled, folding her hands in her lap to disguise their trembling. It was the third time today that she had zoned out while speaking to someone, and lunch had just barely passed. "I was only thinking how lovely the maze is looking this morning. Wouldn't you agree, my Lord?"

She was sitting on a stone bench in a secluded area of the gardens; the sunny summer morning ideal to wander the perfectly-tended to hedge maze that was the pride and joy of her groundskeepers. It was seven feet tall so that it was far above everyone's head, full of glorious twists and turns with secret places for those who were willing to look for them. There was a gazebo in one of these places, a ticket of wildberries in another, and even a picturesque little pond tucked away in the south corner. When she had been a young girl, she had spent ages up on her balcony, spying the secrets from afar and trying to commit the path to them to memory, so she could explore them the next day.

It was her special place. She had sponsored countless landscapers from all over Hyrule to continually add new additions or replace the ones that didn't please her, changing the place around to keep her on her toes. She loved it that way.

Normally, she would have come alone, but given the circumstances, she was forced to bring a companion. This man, sporting the black and vibrant red of House Elswood, happened to be the closest.

He looked strong enough, about the same size as the Gerudo as far as she could tell, with dark brown hair cropped short in accordance to the latest style out west, where it was far too hot to keep it any longer.

"Please," He returned her grin, placing his own hand considerably close to hers. "Call me Rion. Titles are so…tiresome, don't you think?" Slowly, his head dipped a few inches closer to hers, like he thought she wouldn't notice.

Oh, Hell. Rion Elswood. Was he on the list that Theo had read her? She couldn't remember. It felt like a lifetime ago. Goddesses, she never would have taken him here if she had realized he was one of her suitors! She had clearly given him the wrong idea. Damn that man for making her so scatterbrained!

She cleared her throat, leaning back so that the distance between their faces remained constant. "I think that propriety is best kept when in public places, lest we may forget ourselves, Lord Elswood." She said, feeling her face redden.

He raised an eyebrow, leaning ever closer. "This is hardly a public place, your Grace."

Her head hit the hedge behind her, his arms coming on either side of her face. She was trapped.

"And I daresay that there are a few things I'd like you to make me forget…"

"Ah! Your Highness!"

Rion stiffened, and she took the time to hastily duck under his arm, quickly extracting herself from the corner she had been stuck in, her ears flaming red.

"Baron Ianthe." She acknowledged grudgingly, watching as he came from around the corner and positioned himself in between her and Rion, half grateful for the interruption and half terrified that he'd stab Lord Elswood in the heart and make off with her.

No, she told herself, taking a deep breath to steady her frantic pulse. There were too many witnesses, too many people out in the gardens now for that to happen. And there was no way he knew the maze like she did.

She smiled at the revelation, watching as the glint fade out of Rion's dark eyes, turning from lustful to annoyance. She was thankful, for once, for the person that her would-be captor had chosen to masquerade as. House Ianthe was a tier above Elswood, the real Xavier more powerful than Rion could ever hope to become. Technically, Rion couldn't even initiate conversation with him.

"I'm not interrupting anything, am I?" The Gerudo King feigned innocence, looking from her smug face to his fuming one.

"Of course not!" She started backing away, toward the entrance. "I was just telling Lord Elswood that I have a few matters to attend to before the festivities this evening." She shot a glance over his shoulder, daring Rion to disagree.

"What a pity!" The King's face fell. "And I had come all this way from my rooms just to seek you out!"

"Unfortunately, I can't spare any time to—"

"I insist!" He said jovially, closing this distance between them and wrapping his arm around her shoulders. She stiffened, watching as the Lord Elswood's face turned a peculiar shade of red. "My lord, if you'll please excuse us?"

"Certainly." Rion growled, dusting the front of his coat off and walking past the pair of them, back towards the way out. "Until this evening, your Grace," He said, stiffly bowing before taking his leave.

Leaving her alone with _him_.

"Might I ask you, my darling," he said once he was out of earshot, idly taking one of her hands in his, their fingers interlocking. "How in the name of the Goddesses you managed to escape last night?"

She ripped her hand from his grasp, jerking out from underneath the arm that ensnared her. "And why, _dearest_," she sneered, keeping up with the act. "Would I possibly tell you that?"

"Temper, temper." He clacked his tongue, giving her one of those breathtaking smirks. "I was only curious. It's not often I find a woman that could so easily outwit me."

She scowled. "Then you must not have encountered many women."

"Quite the contrary, actually." He casually leaned against the edge of the hedge-wall, blocking her exit. "I rule a race of them. Or have you forgotten so quickly?"

He held a hand out, and once again, the paleness of his flesh melted away, revealing the dark tan underneath.

"Are you finished mocking the way I speak?" She demanded, because it was the easiest thing to be upset at. She couldn't allow herself to think of the others, not when she had public audiences all day.

"You know, for somebody who just saved your skin there, you're being pretty rude to me right now." The King rolled his eyes, though her dialect and accent vanished from his voice.

"And I wonder why?" Her voice rose with anger, hands falling into fists. "Perhaps it has to do with the fact that you tried to _kidnap _me!"

He sighed. "What happened in the past—"

"It was _last night!"_

"—shouldn't completely make your opinion of me! I'm not such a horrible man!"

She snorted, a harsh, half-hysteric laugh bubbling out of her. "Because civilized men break into women's rooms in the middle of the night, use some kind of crazed _sorcery _to make her unable to speak and then try to whisk her off to the desert against her will to make her his _wife_!"

He smiled. "All 173 of my ancestors did, and they all seemed civilized to me."

"You—you perfectly horrid _beast!_" She exclaimed, trying to push past him to get away, but he hooked an arm around her waist, pulling her against his chest. She struggled against her grip, prepared to scream, but his warm breath at her ear made her choke on it.

"So you're smart." He murmured, and the intent in his tone made her shiver. "I won't underestimate you again. I just wanted to let you know that you ought to say your goodbyes tonight, and to pack anything you'd like to take. I have six of my best women tailing you at all times; there's nowhere to run, and nowhere to hide. But how you behave now will completely affect how I will treat you when we get to the desert—and trust me, you will get there whether you want to or not—because I will not give liberties to a woman who puts up a fight. Do you understand?"

Mutely, she nodded, the lump in her throat coming back with a vengeance.

"I'm glad." He smiled, running his thumb over her hand yet again and letting her go, bowing just as Rion had before turning on his heel and leaving.

_Breathe_. She reminded herself, sucking in a breath. _If you don't breathe, you can't think, and if you can't think, how do you suppose you'll get out of this one?_

Goddesses, it wouldn't be so easy this time.

She wrapped her arms around her chest, a small attempt at offering herself comfort, exhaling heavily as she watched him go.

He wouldn't take her tonight. Of that, she was sure of.

**o)oo(o**

When he got back to their room, Kadriya was fiddling with the vanity, holding up a silver-handed brush in disgust. "They waste good silver on something you use to fix your _hair_?"

He walked right past her, sinking face-first into the bed, sighing heavily.

"What's your problem?"

"She's _smart_," He groaned, grabbing a pillow and covering his head with it. "She's smart and _I hate it_."

He heard her laughter, despite the cushion. "A smart Hylian? I was giving up hope that those existed."

"If there's one thing I don't need right now, it's your sarcasm." He rolled over, giving her a flat look. "I need a plan. There's no way she's going to be in her bedroom tonight, and for some reason my tracking spells aren't working."

"I can't help you if I don't know who she is." She replied pointedly.

He sighed. "Zelda, I think I heard somebody call her. Zelda Nohansen."

She wrinkled her nose. "You're taking her? A _Nohansen_?"

She wasn't just a Nohansen, he wanted to tell her. She was Zelda. Smart, enigmatic, beautifully stubborn Zelda. She saw right through him and all his cockiness and charm, was a match for his wits, and clever enough to evade him. She was the way she laughed when she thought that he couldn't hear, her golden hair that he longed to touch, that sarcastic, that demeaning glimmer in her eyes that ran a thrill through his blood at the challenge it sought.

She hated him, that was very clear, but Goddess above, he loved her for it.

But why should he have to explain this to her?

"So what if I am?" The warning lacing his voice was clear, but as per usual, she ignored it, rolling her eyes.

"Cut the crap, Link. You're already on thin ice with the masses as it is. Do you want them to hate you? The last thing we need is for you to turn into the next Ganond—"

"Ganondorf was strong." He stood up, hands abruptly balling into fists.

"Ganondorf was _stupid_." She rose to her feet as well, taking a step closer, any humor in her voice vanishing. "And selfish. And power-hungry. And _dead_, if you haven't noticed. The Hylians butchered him and cut us off and we've been suffering ever since! Is that who you want to be, Link? Is that what you want to be known for? Taking a Nohansen is a one way ticket to war, one that we don't have a prayer of winning."

"The Hylians, if you haven't noticed, are too busy throwing their gold at fancy parties for their princess to raise up an army. We'll be out before anyone notices she's gone, and by the time they do, it'll be too late to do anything about it. They haven't been stupid enough to directly attack the city, let alone the Fortress, since the second Ramzi was ruling three hundred years ago!"

"But they did attack the city." Kadriya countered. "And that was over some ratty Cayn girl who happened to be their king's great niece. And _before_ the Hero of Time came in and gave them so much bravado that they're still choking on it. This is Zelda _Nohansen_ you're talking about. Their King's _daughter_, and heir, for Dinssake! They've marched on us for less, and you know it! Your father—"

"DON'T YOU _DARE _BRING MY FATHER INTO THIS!"

For a long time, he only looked at her, trying to stare her into submission. But she stared right back, defiant as always, refusing to quail under him as so many others did.

It was a low blow, bringing him up, and she knew it. But she didn't care. To her, he was still only Link, not her King, not her ruler, not someone to give respect to like she had his father. But it had to stop. As much as he hated pulling rank, he couldn't treat her the way he used to. Whatever they had had ended the second his father's heart stopped beating; he couldn't let her walk all over him like this anymore.

He was her King now, not her friend. And it was damn well time she knew it.

"You speak out of term." He said finally, his voice steel. "I'm your Ki—"

"I don't care what you are."She interrupted, coming close enough to kiss him, their faces inches away. "I don't care how many titles come before your name. It's my job to make sure you don't do anything stupid. And you seem to be forgetting the first lesson your _father_ ever told you." She twisted the word, jabbing a finger into his chest. "Think with your head, not your heart. Because at the end of the day, she's not worth it."

That was all it took.

He shoved her violently away, pointing to the door as she stumbled back. "Get out." He ordered, his voice low and cold and undeniably deadly.

There was fire in her eyes as she glared at him, every inch of her obviously screaming in retaliation, screaming to fight back.

But she didn't.

Seething, she took in a breath, her fists balling up tight as his.

"As my King commands." She said in the most sarcastic voice she could muster, mockingly bowing as low as was possible. And then she took her leave, slamming the door behind her. The frame shook, the shiny gilded mirror hanging on the wall beside it falling to the ground and shattering against the marble of the floor.

Link sighed, sinking back down into his seat and burying his head in his hands.

Goddess damn it all.

It always sounded so _easy_, in the stories his mother used to tell him before bed at night. Love was as simple as the meeting of eyes, a kiss to break a terrible curse. Soul mates, were words she used to use, fate. There was only one out there that could be your true love. It was only a matter of finding them.

He had grown up on the notion that one day, he would see a girl, and he would know that she was the one, and she would feel the same. He would ask for her hand, as his father had, and take her to the desert to be his bride.

That bubble of dreams and fantasy had popped as soon as his father died, though. There would be no true love for him, as much as he still hoped. Zelda was going to be his wife, and when he looked into her eyes, all he saw was hostility.

Still, spending the nights in crowded ballrooms full of people, he was sure to meet each girl in the eyes, waiting for that zing of electricity. What if he was wrong and the stories were real, and he was making a big mistake? What if his soul mate was out there, and he was missing her?

No. He was sure…about that, at least. Zelda was the best he could ever hope for. Fate could go to Hell. He didn't have enough time to wait around for it.

As much as it hurt to come to grips with, he was a king. His people, and thus the traditions that came with them, had to come first. It was nice on paper, all those fairy tales and children's stories where the prince in shining armor charged in on his steed, finding his true love and whisking off the fair maiden to become his queen, but that wasn't—and could never be—possible for him.

He was a king, clad with armor and a steed, sure, but he was also Gerudo. For thousands of years, since the First War of Men, every single one of his ancestors save one had taken their wives. None of them had found true love, and neither would he.

But he _had_ found Zelda.

She was hostile towards him, yes, but he could see past the hatred, the temper. She was beautiful. She was smart. She was brave. And she had outwitted him on many an occasion.

Wasn't that all that he could ask for?

No, he didn't love her yet. He admired her, though, for all her attributes, for everything that made her her. She would be happier with him than she ever was here, that he knew. There were no lies in the desert, no masks or falsities or expectations. She could strip herself of all her jewels and gowns and manners that weighed her down and be able to laugh and smile, really smile, with her golden hair shining in the sun. So he would try again tomorrow night. Once she was his, away from all the monsters that Hylians were and given the chance to be herself, he could love her.

And maybe, a small part of him hoped, she could learn to love him, too.

**Remember when I said this was all going to be in Link's point of view?  
Yeah, I lied.  
I realized I had to throw her part in there, but hey, it makes the chapter flow better and gives it length, so it's a pro pro!**

**Hope you guys enjoyed, and leave a word if you please :)**

**~Alyssa**


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